


A Confession of Violence

by silurica



Series: Look to Love, Always [7]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Gen, Hallowmas, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silurica/pseuds/silurica
Summary: An encounter at the Feast of Mask. A regret carried below from far on the Surface.
Series: Look to Love, Always [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068755





	A Confession of Violence

_This is a strange time of the year to return to this strange city._ That thought has been lingering in the gentleman’s mind for the last few days. The citizens don various masks - cats, owls, foxes, and so on - as they go about in the city, seemingly looking for something. Perhaps he should join them? But how can he join when he doesn’t know anything? Hmm.

Ah, let’s ask that person leaning on a lamppost over there, the one wearing a bear mask.

“Excuse me… May I know what is happening here right now?”

When the person turned to look at him, they jumped as if they just saw a ghost. “You… What do you mean?” The voice from behind the rough mask has a low tone, but certainly is of a woman.

“Everyone is wearing mask.” The gentleman makes a gesture over his face. “Is this a festival?”

“O-oh! Yes, yes, it’s the Feast of Mask! Or Hallowmas, colloquially.” The masked woman answers.

“Harrow…?”

“Hallowmas!” She corrected, causing the gentleman to glance about as he covers his mouth. There is an awkward pause before she asks, “I reckon you’re new around here?”

“Well, that is true.” He puts away his hand. “This isn’t my first time in London, but previously it was merely a short trip.” The gentleman smiles, though his eyes are melancholic. “What is this festival about?”

“We collect confessions in this time of the year. Stories always have value, no matter how small.” She takes out a small notebook from behind her tattered robe with a swish; there are papers tucked carelessly into it. “I will burn these with candle flame when the Feast ends. Let their errors be eaten, so they said.”

“Ah, that’s… interesting.”

“So why don’t you confess too? Tell me one of your errors or regrets, or write it down in this book. It can be relieving to let it out from your mind. I promise I won’t sell out your secrets, unlike some other masked b______s.”

The gentleman raises an eyebrow. “But won’t you remember it?”

“No worry, no worry!” She waves her hand. “I’m an old lady with increasingly faulty memory. Can’t even remember where I put my own glasses sometimes.”

The woman’s nonchalant words gets a chuckle out of him. To confess or not? Is it really fine? He considers his options.

“What do you think? Today I seek confessions of violence. You know, bones and blood.”

“Oh! Uhm, sure. Please allow me a moment to think.” It’s fine, nobody can use his history to blackmail him, right? He has left everything behind on the Surface. Nothing matters anymore.

The woman lifted her mask, not enough to reveal her face, but enough for her to whistle sharply. At her call, a gray raven descended from above to her raised hand. “Ann,” she asks, “How is the situation?”

“Nobody to hear.” The raven sings, “All shall be well and all shall be well.”

She nods. “Please stay on the lookout.” The raven blinks before it takes flight once again, leaving with a gust of wind from its flapping wings. After that, she reaches into her robe for a pen and flips open her notebook to a blank page. Now she waits for the gentleman.

“So… violence.” The gentleman murmurs. The masked woman has readied her pen. “It’s a barely concealed crime from long ago. I killed…” He stops to take a long breath. “I killed one of my own family. It was an accident. I never meant to kill him, but I…” His hands are now trembling. “I never wanted to be like them. I never wanted to kill anyone.”

“An accident?”

“…Yes. It was a heated argument, and I lost myself that night. I… well, I was never the most agreeable with my family, admittedly, but…” He looks away; is he regretting this encounter? Regardless, he continues, “I was never punished for this crime. The rest of my family used that incident to blackmail me into a certain position. I… I had to, I had to agree so I could stay with my love. It was very selfish of me to…

“My uncle… He had a son. And I separated them. Ahahah. He… The son hates me now. Left the house without notice.” The gentleman bit his lip, cold sweat runs down his face.. “Recently I met him again after so many years. I can’t forget the grudge in his eyes. I will never forget.”

The masked woman lowers her notebook into the gentleman’s sight—the page is blank. “This is more than violence…” She lets out a sigh as she takes off her mask.

The gentleman’s eyes went wide, his face pale. “Aren’t you one of Shiki’s—”

“Leonard.” She corrected him again, this time with a sharp look. “Why are you back in this city, Nishiooji?”

Hearing that question, the gentleman looks away again, his fists clenched. “I can understand his grief and hatred now.”

“Ha?”

“Someone… my love… I returned home for nothing… Nothing is left for me up there.” He claws at his chest, tearing away something invisible. “…I followed the trail of the murderer and found myself back here. Please, please don’t tell him I’m here. I swear I will leave again after…”

Murderer? The woman scratches her head with her pen as she puts the gentleman’s words together. “Even if I didn’t, that child has his own ways to hear all the rumours and hearsays in this city.”

“Of course. Of course he does.” The gentleman mutters. “Just like his late father, being resourceful is only natural.”

The woman observes the gentleman from head to toe; he is a tad shabbier than when they met before. Before, he had the dignified air of a proper diplomat. Now, he looks as if he had thrown together any clean clothes he could find. Is he short on funds?

“So you are here for a personal reason.” She asks, “Is everything that you tell me true?”

“Unfortunately so.” The tension on the gentleman’s face melts away into melancholy, “That child has every right to hate me. I don’t expect him to give me forgiveness.”

“Ah, honestly I don’t get what exactly is going on in that family of yours.” She admits. As she leans back to the lamppost, she recalls, “Leonard wasn’t in a good mentality too. Still isn’t much better now.”

“It’s better that you don’t.” He replies. A frost-moth dances, flutters between them, toward the lamp.

“You didn’t hear this from me, but he’s now staying at the Royal Bethlehem to seek treatment for his recurring nightmares.” She gives him another sharp look. “That’s where the lunatics go.”

“I see…”

“You’re… not a bad person, aren’t you?” She asks, looking at him in the eyes.

The suggestion brings a small smile to his face. “I try to be better.” The woman gives him a nod of approval. “Would you tell him then? Shiki—no, Leonard…”

“I’m a woman of my words. This piece of your regret will be burned away.” She wears her mask again. “I do hope we won’t have to see each other again anytime soon. I’m bad at lying.”

As she goes into the fog, the gentleman calls, “Madam! What I said back then was true too.” She turns again to hear him for one last time. He gives another smile, dampened by regret. “I’m glad he has found a real family. May he find his own happiness.”


End file.
